


so, then we grew a little

by celaenos



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: F/F, Fic Exchange, Holiday Fic Exchange, Misses Clause Challenge, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot, Yuletide, Yuletide 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: Cameron really doesn’t want to fuck this up again. She was being honest when she said that working with Donna was the most fun she’s ever had, that she’s Cameron’s anchor, best partner, knows her brain and the way it works inside and out, andstill wants her around. Again. After everything, they both still want to do this all over again.That has to mean something monumental. Cameron can’t go on and fuck it up just because Donna is the hottest woman she’s ever known, and she keeps thinking about what it would feel like to press her down into a bed and kiss every inch of her skin.
Relationships: Donna Clark/Cameron Howe
Comments: 25
Kudos: 128
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	so, then we grew a little

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamesbonds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesbonds/gifts).



> happy yuletide! i hope you enjoy this and I hope you're staying safe and have a good 2021<3

“Cam!”

She looks up at the sound of Donna’s voice calling out her name, expecting her to have something that Cameron forgot clasped in her hands. A wallet, or something. Nothing more than an insignificant and quick exchange before Cameron climbs back into this truck and leaves—for good, maybe.

_Leaves. Jesus, what the hell is she even doing?_

Instead, Donna’s hands are full of nothing more than her own coat, it’s her face that’s full of an expression that—

Cameron doesn’t know how to parse, frankly. But there’s something familiar about it. Donna lets out a sigh and Cameron watches as she twitches, and then settles again, like she’s shouldering something that she hadn’t expected would be that heavy. “I…” she looks almost apologetic, behind the other thing that Cameron can’t name, but which… scares her, a little. “I have an idea.”

_Well, fuck._

…

…

Cameron meets Donna Emerson in a bathroom.

 _June 6 th, 1983._ Why the date etches itself into her brain, Cameron always tells herself that she doesn’t know; she just randomly remembers.

_It’s one of her many, many lies to herself._

Of course, she’s not going by Donna Emerson, then. She’s Donna Clark, all picture perfection of a southern housewife, stuck somewhere in the 70s, maybe. Maybe even a bit further back; there’s something about the way her hair is styled that reminds Cameron just a little bit of her mother, and it’s grating, even as Joanie looks up at her with that gap-toothed grin and beams.

“We just got back from the dentist,” Donna says. Cameron knows that this is meant to be an apology for her daughter. Not an explanation, not really. Women—mothers especially—were like that a lot, back then. Apologetic for themselves and their daughters. Even to other women.

(Especially to other women).

Texas in the fucking seventies had Cameron nearly splitting at the seams, hardening up and going so brittle that she could crack at even the slightest pressure. She is nothing but sharp edges by the time that 1983 rolls around, hiding out in a basement, smelling like shit, trying to figure out a code that _means something_ while Joe hovers, and pisses her off, and gets her off in equal measure.

Donna becomes her savior.

Cameron tries to block that whole day out of her memories permanently, many times over, in the years that follow, but, no matter what she does, she never quite manages it; pain and panic have a way of distorting time, ballooning it, and then compressing it again, but Cam remembers the parts that sting the most, no matter what. Her chest _collapses_ when she realizes that the code is gone. She really and truly thinks that she is dying, that her body is rejecting this entirely and her heart is stopping and that’s that. Twenty-two years old and she is having a heart attack alone in a dingy basement in clothes that she’s been wearing for a week.

Except that she doesn’t die.

Donna saves her code. And her code, _is_ Cam, so—

“My code was never like that,” Donna says, a little crescent of rueful admission curling at the corners of her mouth as the two of them stand together in an empty parking lot. She looks up at Cam like… Cam doesn’t know what to make of it, then, but later—maybe it’s hubris to think so—but later, she thinks it’s with something like awe. “Your code is like a piece of music.”

…

…

Cameron sits in the truck bed, half-drunk, spouting ideas out in a steady stream, one after another. Donna’s interjecting easily, full of more enthusiasm than Cameron’s seen from her since she tried to rope her into discovering the world wide web four years ago. They’re not talking over each other, their ideas blend, one into the other, like they’re almost one person. Fitting perfectly.

Cameron stills once that thought enters her skull unwarranted, and she rolls her head over to look at Donna straight on. She’s been in that outfit since last night. Neither of them has slept. Somehow, Cam doesn’t feel tired at all.

“What?” Donna asks, quieting. “Too much?” She’s talking about her idea. It should be a simple question, but the answer feels significant for reasons that Cameron hasn’t entirely sorted her way through yet—she’s close enough to the answer that—well. Suddenly self-conscious, Donna sits up and pulls herself away from Cam, slightly. Awkward and tentative; she’s been like that with Cameron since the day that she came out to the Airstream to get her signature a few months ago.

Cameron hates it.

“No,” she smiles at Donna. “Not too much at all. Tell me more.”

Donna’s grin widens then, bright and wicked, almost like nothing Cameron’s ever seen from her before. It’s intoxicating. Cam wants to see it again. “Okay,” Donna says, all excitement. “I was also thinking that maybe—” and she launches into another spurt that has Cameron grinning wider and leaning closer.

_Moth, meet flame._

…

…

Cameron doesn’t know exactly when the idea of asking Donna Clark, of all people, to come help her start her own company slips into her brain, but once it does, it grows there persistently. It won’t leave her alone at all. She gets the house rented, she tells Joe to fuck off as succinctly as she can, and Donna’s face won’t leave her alone.

She _does_ need someone who knows hardware. No one knows it like Donna; Cameron’s smart enough to see that with only the minimal times she has seen Donna in action.

Cam goes to her house on a whim. She’s not actually planning on it, which maybe works in her favor because she has never been all that good at planning things, anyway. She stumbles into them, or comes up with them in the moment. Impulsive. Improvisational. Planning, studying, organizing, these are all things that she’s terrible at—her mother can certainly be called on to attest to that.

Donna seems… stunned.

“Why me?” she asks, and Cam can’t seem to stop looking down at the cast on her arm. She heard about the mugging, but she didn’t—

Cam swallows and meets Donna’s eye. “I need a hardware expert. I’ve got code monkeys aplenty, but no one who knows hardware like you do.”

Donna says no. She’s not mean about it. Not dismissive. Maybe Cam’s reading too much into it but she _thinks_ that she even detects a hint of disappointment on her face but… she’s probably reading too much into it. Donna’s got her own life. Her own problems. She doesn’t want to deal with Cam, too.

…

…

Except, a few weeks later, she calls and asks Cameron if the position is still open.

Cameron never tells anyone this, but she does an air punch when she hangs up the phone, hope blooming in her chest that she is about to make something _great._ Something that matters.

…

…

“I… sort of promised my mom that I’d visit,” Cameron says, a few hours later. The exhaustion is catching up to her, now. A full night without sleep, and she’s got to get on the road if she wants to get to the first motel on time tonight, but, Donna’s idea is…

“Oh, right,” Donna straightens. Cameron doesn’t know how she does that. Spine rolled up into perfection, the picture of professional. “Of course! I really didn’t mean to—Cam, you don’t—” she bites at her bottom lip, unprofessional and awkward and far more familiar and welcome.

“I’m exhausted, though,” Cameron admits. Her mentioning it seems to make Donna realize that she has gone with sleep just as long as Cameron has, and she watches the exhaustion hit Donna like a physical blow.

“Gosh, me too,” she says, dryly surprised. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Donna,” Cameron cuts off, “I think it’s a brilliant idea.” The way that Donna beams at her with assurance does something horrible to Cameron’s stomach and she inhales more sharply than she intends. “But,” she says, quickly covering, “I don’t want to make things with my mom shitty again, so. I need to sleep and tell her that I’m going to be a day later, but… when I get back, maybe we can talk about it some more?”

“You’re coming back, then?” Donna asks. And again, there’s that… the answer feels significant again. The reasons why are becoming harder to ignore, despite the fact that Cameron hasn’t entirely sorted her way through them all the way, just yet.

“Yeah,” Cam smiles. “I’m coming back.”

The smile that Donna gives her in return is entirely unfair. “You can crash in my guest room,” she offers, almost before she realizes that she has done it. “You don’t need to pay for an extra hotel, not when I’m the one that kept you a day late.”

Cameron points to the Airstream. “I’ve got a bed, but… I could park it at your house? If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all! Haley will be thrilled.”

“Okay…”

It seems like Donna is going to say something else, but, she closes her mouth instead and that’s… sort of that.

…

…

Cameron almost goes inside with Donna. She shouldn’t… it seems _wrong,_ to make someone go in there by themselves. But, Donna looks as taut as a livewire, ready to snap at the slightest provocation, and she jerks her head into a no, and so Cameron sits there in the parking lot and watches as Donna walks into the clinic alone.

She cuts the engine and sits there, waiting.

She has plenty of time to think about how much of a bitch she’s been to Donna lately. _God,_ she had snapped at her about being on the rag and Donna had been—

 _Fuck her and her damn mouth._ Cam presses her forehead against the wheel. She always does this, it’s exhausting. But with everything going on with Tom and one setback in Mutiny after another, she just…

She is fucking it all up, is what she is doing.

Cam blows out air and bounces her leg up and down to try and warm herself up a bit more. She’s got to do better. Mutiny _means something._ Doing it with Donna means something. She’s not… she can’t fuck this up. She has to get her shit together.

A few hours later, Donna walks gingerly out of the clinic. Cameron can’t really help herself, she jumps out of the car and runs over towards her, kind of supporting her weight before she can even think about it. “Cameron—” her name is a sharp exhale, but Donna continues on. “I’m fine. I can walk on my own.” Cam releases her, but hovers anyway, ready to catch her or steady her. Donna eases into the car so slowly that Cameron gnaws at her bottom lip. She studies Donna carefully; there’s a traumatized half-dead thing to the look on her face, but not a hint of regret anywhere to be found.

“Okay,” Cam says gently. “Let’s get you home.”

She picks up ice cream. Donna falls asleep and Cameron just… slips into a Wendy’s drive-through and gets Donna a Frostie. She shakes Donna awake gently when they get to her driveway. “Want me to come in and help you get settled or anything?” she asks, partly hoping Donna says ‘yes’ because she doesn’t know what the doctor told her, or if she’s supposed to be alone right now. But part of her is desperate for her to say no, to give Cameron permission to get the hell out of here and as far away from anything resembling caretaking as she can get.

Fuck, Donna’s still _mad_ at her, probably.

“No,” Donna shakes her head. “I’m all set. Thank you,” she says, looking Cameron dead in the eye, full sincerity that Cam wants to turn away from, but forces herself to meet, instead. She can do that much, at least.

“I got you a Frostie,” Cam says and all but shoves it at her. Donna blinks in surprise and stares down at the little cup like Cameron’s just grown a third hand. “It’s not a big deal,” Cam waves it off, silently begging Donna to just take the thing. “My dad would always get me one after I had to go to the doctors, so… I just… here.”

“I… thank you, Cam.” Her voice is like… a cloud, Cam decides; like something that’s gone all soft and weightless. She sounds almost like she is taking the words out for a test drive, but isn’t sure whether or not she wants to buy them. She opens her mouth to say something else, but then she just closes it again, easing her way out of Cameron’s shitty, dying car and into her empty house with her newly empty womb.

Cameron waits till the light flicks on inside, then peels out of the driveway as fast as she can.

…

…

Cameron’s mother looks… good, all things considered. She hasn’t seen her in person in, fuck, what has it been, four years? Five?

Loretta Howe has always been… larger than life. One of those bold, big-haired, blonde southern women long before Cameron even knew how to quantify them. There were always reasons they clashed, they’ve never come at a problem from the same place in all their life—no matter how either of them tried. Cam gave up trying a long time ago, but, she’s thinking now that might have been a mistake on her part.

(A mistake that she has made with more than one person in her life, she’s coming to realize).

Their conversations are stilted, awkward. Each of them dodges around topics with little to no grace whatsoever, constantly shifting gears, and cutting themselves off mid-sentence from oft-said cutting remarks before they can hang in the air and ruin things between them all over again.

It’s exhausting.

But it’s also… there’s something really good about it. Loretta is _trying._ She’s not making pointed comments about Cam’s hair, or her posture, or her clothes, or her career, or even her lack of a love life. She starts to, because old habits die hard, but she clamps her mouth shut over them nine times outta ten and she tries to ask Cam about things she _actually_ wants to talk about.

She listens to Cam talk to her about Pilgrim, for fucks sake.

Cam tries, too. She listens to the gossip from Loretta’s weekly Bridge game and does not roll her eyes or scoff or call all of her mother’s friends assholes. She tries to actually tell her mother about what’s been going on, how aimless she feels, how unsure, how… excited.

(She _cannot_ stop thinking about Donna. Donna’s new idea. Working with Donna again. Donna in that red dress. Donna looking at her like—)

_Fuck._

Loretta’s eyebrow arches high at some comment that Cameron just said and she freezes, whirling back through their conversation and trying to figure out what she said to cause that. Loretta’s attention on her is suddenly sharp and appraising. _Looking_ for something like a hawk.

“What?” Cam asks, trying hard not to hunch or get defensive.

“That woman who voted you out of your own company?” Loretta asks, and Cameron is… shocked to see the anger there. The protective venom, the fact that her mother even _knows,_ really, because Cam’s sure as hell never talked with her about this at any sort of length.

“Um… yeah,” Cameron shifts uncomfortably underneath her mother’s gaze. “It’s… well it’s a long story,” she says. And, suddenly feeling protective of Donna, and not wanting her mother to blow this out of proportion eight years after the fact, Cam blows her hair out of her face. “It wasn’t entirely… her fault,” Cam admits. “I was… well,” she laughs, self-deprecating. “You know what I was like. We both made a lot of mistakes. It’s been eight years. We’ve both changed and learned from them.”

“Hum,” is all her mother says in response, the look barely dimming.

“Really, Mom,” Cameron insists. “We’ve talked about it. Apologized. We’re good. It’s not… we’re not… I forgave her a while ago.”

“And yet you want to work with her again? Catherine, really?” her mother asks, a hint of something Cameron can’t parse tinged underneath her question.

“Yeah,” Cam says, unable to stifle the smile that grows at the thought. “Working with her was the most fun I’ve ever had, before we both fucked it up.”

Loretta tsks at the language, her look losing some of its protective fury and shifting to something a little more… wary, searching. Cam doesn’t like it. There’s something familiar about it that she can’t place and it’s freaking her out, making her skin itch all over.

“Anyway,” Cam shifts the conversation to something Loretta’s friend said, and watches her mother go on a rant about some stupid spat, but that look doesn’t totally go away for the rest of Cam’s trip, it’s always just underneath the surface of their conversations.

It’s not until the day that Cameron is packing up and getting ready to drive back to California that she finally places it—it’s the same look her mother had when she first realized that Cameron had a crush on a boy.

Oh, _fuck._

…

…

Living with Donna and her family is… weird.

(Good weird, but _definitely_ weird).

Joanie keeps shoving her way into Cameron’s room and Cam thought it would piss her off but it doesn’t. She _likes_ Joanie, likes Haley. Fuck, she might even kind of like Gordon, at this point. It’s hard to live with a person and have so many hobbies and loves in common and not soften your heart to them, just a little.

It’s Donna that’s the wildcard. It’s Donna who has gone from partner to roommate in the blink of an eye. It’s Donna who she has to navigate around. Joanie and Haley are easy. Gordon is hard with their history and everything that’s been going on with his and Donna’s relationship, but… it’s not as awkward as Cameron thought it would be. It’s _Donna_ that feels awkward to be around. It’s Donna that feels awkward because… it doesn’t actually feel awkward at all.

It’s easy.

Cam wakes up and eats cereal on top of Donna’s kitchen island in her tank top and underwear and easily makes conversation while Donna makes coffee. It’s not hard to talk about work or the logistics of moving to a new state all in one breath. Donna pauses and then gives her a very pointed look about her underwear, and Cameron rolls her eyes and goes to tug on some shorts before Joanie and Haley walk in clamoring for breakfast and it’s _easy._

And that is so fucking weird. It’s weird, that it feels normal. Cameron’s never been a good roommate in all her life and she doesn’t think that she’s being one now, but—

It’s not _hard._

There’s something natural about it.

…

…

When she gets back to California, Donna doesn’t even greet her. She opens her huge front door and starts talking a mile a minute about the changes that she’s been making at Symphonic while Cameron was with her mother, and all of the ideas that she has about their new project. Cameron can’t really get a word in edgewise until Donna has already talked for a solid half-hour, given Cameron a mug of coffee, and Haley comes barreling home from school, hollering out something about _tons of homework can I eat dinner in my room?_ before slamming her bedroom door without waiting for an answer.

Donna sighs and looks up at Cameron, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Sorry, I was being… how are you? How was your trip?”

Cameron looks down at Donna, soft and waiting, and it surprises her suddenly, how much taller she is than Donna, how easily Donna makes herself into something greater and more imposing than her small frame should feasibly allow for. Donna’s in yoga pants and a soft sweater—it probably cost her hundreds of dollars, for her to look this casual yet put together, her hair tugged back into a low, slightly messy bun.

_She looks beautiful._

Cameron swallows that thought down and gamely tries to talk about her mother, but she keeps on getting tripped up. Loretta’s searching, sharp look etching itself into her brain and sticking there, making Cameron look everywhere in the kitchen _but_ at Donna while she rambles.

Donna touches her arm and Cameron jerks, going silent. “Anyway, it was fine,” she says, still not meeting Donna’s eye. “Good actually. Better than I thought it would be.”

There’s a look on Donna’s face that Cameron has _no_ idea how to deal with, but Donna smoothes it away and just looks up at Cameron with a gentle, almost relieved smile. “Good, I’m glad.” Cameron can’t help but hone in on the feeling of Donna’s hand on her arm, she can’t… fuck. There’s no sound in this kitchen outside of the blood rushing in her ears, and Cam… she can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening anymore.

It’s been happening for years, she just… knows what it means, now.

…

…

The first time that Cameron sees Donna in nothing more than a towel her brain short-circuits.

Cameron has headphones on, her Walkman is blasting, and a bowl of cereal is clutched in her hands, dressed in nothing but a ratty old t-shirt and the boxer shorts she’s wearing to bed. They’re in the hall, Donna clearly having forgotten something down here and not bothering to grab for a robe, thinking everyone in the house was asleep or tucked away in their beds or simply not caring because everyone in this house is her family.

Everyone, except for Cameron.

She jerks to a stop, a bit of milk sloshing out over the sides of the bowl and spilling onto the hardwood floor. Donna’s eyes follow it and Cameron’s eyes stay locked on Donna, hair dripping wet, beads of water glistening off her bare collarbone, a small pink towel wrapped loosely around her _toned_ body. Cameron has seen women in various states of dress in her life. Attractive women. But, she’s never felt _this_ before, she looks at Donna and feels a twinge of desire pluck low at her belly, as distinct and painful as the snap of an elastic band against her skin.

“Cam,” Donna says, exasperatedly pointing to the milk on the floor, completely unaware of the way that Cameron’s face is growing hot. “One of the girls will slip in the morning and it will start to smell if—”

“I got it, I got it,” Cameron says quickly, already moving to set the bowl down on the small table resting in the hall and turning to go grab a cloth. She doesn’t move, though. Donna is still just standing there in her towel and Cameron keeps looking at her collarbone, her thighs, her… she swallows.

Donna rolls her eyes, utterly oblivious to Cameron’s revelation as she walks into the kitchen. Cam follows her, because that’s where the cloth is that she needs, not for… any other reason. Donna gets herself a glass of water and then opens a junk drawer and rummages around in it for something while Cameron wets a cloth and goes back into the hall, swiping inelegantly at the spill and then tossing the cloth in the laundry bin. Donna’s back in the hall, one hand holding up her towel, the other balancing a water glass and what looks like a small screwdriver in her other hand.

“Goodnight,” she says, seemingly finally aware of her state of undress.

Cameron can’t stop looking at her fucking collarbone. She swallows. It occurs to her that nothing is going to happen; this is _Donna._ “Yeah,” she mumbles, grabbing her cereal. “Night.”

She slips into her bedroom and lets out a huff of a breath, shaking and off-balance.

“The fuck?” she breathes, then vows never to think about this again.

…

…

The Airstream stays parked in Donna’s driveway for three weeks. Cameron keeps meaning to drive it back to her property but, it’s always so late when they finish working for the night. Donna is working double time, all of her projects at Symphonic and then theirs after hours—they don’t want to jinx it, yet. It’s still an unofficial thing between just the two of them, working out the kinks, sprawled out on Donna’s couch, or Donna’s floor, or Donna’s kitchen table, or legs dangling in Donna’s pool.

Everything that’s on her mind these days involves Donna’s name ahead of it, and Cameron… isn’t trying to ignore that in the way she might have, even just a few months ago.

It’s weird.

She’s never done this before. When she’s attracted to someone, she acts on it, unthinking, impulsive, whether she thinks it’s a good idea or not. But, this feels… different, somehow. She jumped into bed with Joe, with Tom, and both of those relationships gave her something important and wonderful and also hurt her in ways that she never could have imagined and blown up in her face.

Donna blew up in her face already, too, technically.

But—

Cameron really doesn’t want to fuck this up again. She was being honest when she said that working with Donna was the most fun she’s ever had, that she’s Cameron’s anchor, best partner, knows her brain and the way it works inside and out, and _still wants her around._ Again. After everything, they both still want to do this all over again.

That has to mean something monumental. Cameron can’t go on and fuck it up just because Donna is the hottest woman she’s ever known, and she keeps thinking about what it would feel like to press her down into a bed and kiss every inch of her skin.

Cameron has to get her shit together and focus on the work.

…

…

“She thinks we’re a couple,” Donna teases, walking out of the front door to the house they’re looking at.

Cameron rolls her eyes. “You’re not my type,” she says dryly. Which is true. Someone like Donna, someone so put together and Type A and… conventional, is never someone Cameron would normally go for.

(Whether or not she’d like to fuck her anyway, is another matter entirely and not the point at _all_ ).

Donna is keeping something from her. Cameron can feel it, doesn’t know what it is but she knows that it’s _there._ There’s a gap between them again, like when things got rocky back in Texas, but there’s a different flavor to it that scares Cameron, a little. She’s tried to talk to Donna about it three times now—at Mutiny, at the house, randomly when they went to pick up Joanie from school so they could keep talking through an idea about Community last week—but each time, Cameron clams up. She doesn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding like a crazy, paranoid, asshole. She keeps on trying to explain to Donna the flavor of this fear that keeps cropping up inside of her throat until she chokes, every time, she shuts her mouth. It’s one of those things at the back of her mind that she has no idea how to deal with, she’s hoping that Donna just folds first and saves her from having to do it.

She’s done it once before.

…

…

Donna is sprawled on the couch with more indignant drama than the situation requires. “I’m not saying scrap it entirely—” Cameron starts to say, for the _third_ time, but Donna cuts her off again.

“No! Cam, I’m telling you this is important.”

“Donna—”

“It is! If we don’t get this right then we can forget about—”

“That’s not true! We don’t need it,” Cameron insists. “We only need—”

“No, I’m sure of it, Cam—”

“Donna, there’s no way that—”

“God!” Haley yells, walking into the kitchen and cutting them both off. “You sound worse than when you and Dad we’re about to get a divorce! Chill out,” she orders.

Donna immediately goes stock still, shooting a jerky look down at Cameron, and there’s a flush creeping up onto her face that has Cameron blinking and suddenly feeling a little bit like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar, though she can’t imagine _why._ At least, not until Haley’s words register.

She’s implying that they sound like a married couple fighting. Now it’s Cameron’s turn to flush. Donna throws a joke over her shoulder at Haley that Cameron doesn’t hear, because she can’t hear anything but her own heart thumping at the notion of being _in a relationship_ with Donna. It was one thing, to know that she was attracted to her—Cam’s known that for years. Attraction is nothing, Cameron is attracted to loads of people. There are loads of attractive people in the world, who cares. But, a relationship, that’s… well…

Cameron swallows thickly. When Donna finally looks back at her—Haley grabbing her Bagel Bites and slipping back to her bedroom—there’s a quiet kind of understanding in her eyes, and Cameron hates it so, so much.

“Okay, fine,” she says. “You’re right.”

Donna blinks at her in surprise. “I’m sorry?” there’s a teasing lilt to her tone that sends heat low in Cameron’s core. “Say that for me one more time?”

“You’re right,” Cameron says, through gritted teeth. Donna laughs. A real one, all loud and throaty and her shoulders shake with it, eyes sparkling with delight and her breasts are—

_Fucking get it together._

“I love hearing you say that.”

Cameron grabs a throw pillow and makes good use of its name, chucking it at Donna’s head with just a little too much force. “Don’t be an asshole about it, or I’ll take it back.”

Donna catches the pillow and then cuddles with it, smiling down at Cameron with far too much fondness than the situation requires. “I won’t,” she promises. “For what it’s worth, I think we need to do your idea too. It’s only the order that I was arguing about.”

“Okay,” Cameron holds her gaze.

“Okay,” Donna’s eyes lock onto hers and then don’t move. 

Haley clatters her dish into the sink, alerting them both to her presence again. Cameron jumps and she’s surprised to find that Donna does too. Haley rolls her eyes at them. “You guys are so weird.” _Even the fifteen-year old’s fucking tone is fond, now._

…

…

Everything with Donna is messed up.

She just got _married._ She should be happy. She should be focused on that, but all she can think about is _what the fuck is going on with Donna?_ She can feel it, in the air, everyone is around her offering congratulations, and Tom’s arm is secured around her waist, and Cameron keeps looking over at Donna. Donna, who has a too-wide fake smile plastered onto her face and who has this almost manic nervous energy coming off of her in waves.

When they pull her up into the office, Cameron’s gut sinks with hurt before she even realizes what is happening. Donna starts pacing, words coming out fast and hard and Cameron spits venom back at her and it’s _awful._ Donna cuts her to the bone, the disappointment and worry and anger in her voice is enough that something tight and suffocating settles into Cameron’s throat. She balls her hands into fists and tries to breathe through it, but she can’t.

_Put it to a vote._

Diane’s hand goes up. Donna’s a perfectly straight line, arching upwards as her face is hard and unblinking, staring Cameron down like an arrow that’s piercing into her heart. Gordon lets out a heavy, angry sigh but puts his hand up, too. It’s Bos that breaks her. Cameron is doing everything she can to try and not focus on Donna that she didn’t know to be wary about Bos.

“Darling, you are breaking my heart,” he says, and then puts his hand into the air, too.

 _All of them_. All of them, and _Donna_ fucking started—

Cameron splits in half. There’s one last jerky look over at Donna and—years later, when there is enough distance that Cameron can think about touching the memory of it—Cameron thinks that she remembers seeing a flash of something flicker over Donna’s face, regretful, or pained, but it’s gone so quickly, and Cameron hurts so deep, that it doesn’t even matter. Nothing has hurt her this much since her father died.

Later, when she finally allows herself to think about it again, after Gordon dies, after Joe leaves, Cameron realizes that nothing has ever hurt her that much in all her life. Her father’s death was the worst thing, Donna taking Mutiny away from her is the second on the list.

It’s not her marriage with Tom imploding. Not any of the times that she and Joe break up and betrayed each other. It’s her relationship with Donna imploding that hurts more, even after years of distance. When Cameron realizes it, lying on the floor of the Airstream and trying to work on being more in touch with her feelings, trying not to just shove things away and ignore them until she implodes and hurts someone, it finally hits her.

Donna’s betrayal hurt so much more than Tom’s ever did. It even hurt her more than Joe’s multiple betrayals. Her feelings for Donna must be bigger than her feelings for Tom or Joe ever were, she realizes. They’re real. It’s not just a fleeting attraction that’s gone on for years and a strong working relationship—they’re _real feelings_ about Donna, the person. They’re real, and real things are supposed to hurt, a little. Things that are real leave a mark behind, a trail of evidence in their wake; they don’t end, not really.

Of _course,_ she found her way back to working at Donna’s side then, even after everything. Of course, she’s half-way living in her house again. Of course, she did.

 _Fuck,_ she breathes out slow.

…

…

They start working proper hours, at Symphonic. It’s a real, tangible thing now—public knowledge. Other people besides them have stakes in it. Cam finds _Lev_ and brings him on again.

It’s fucking exhausting and all-consuming and Cameron is having so much fucking fun.

She’s also… made some small comments that might lead Donna to believe that maybe… well… fuck, Cam is so bad at this. It’s been weeks since she realized she might want to do something about her feelings but—

_Ugh._

Cameron is starving. It’s going on three a.m. and she crawls out of her bed in the Airstream, and rummages through the little mini-fridge, and comes up with jack all. She’s been eating basically all her meals in Donna’s house. She’s still _parked in Donna’s driveway_ after five months. Cam blows out a breath and grabs a blanket, wrapping it around herself and braving the chilly night air as she waddles up to Donna’s side door. She unlocks it with her key—she has a key! for fucks sake—and slips inside quietly. She’ll just make a quick PB&J and then go to bed, no problem.

Except for the fact that Donna is sitting at the kitchen counter, papers strewn about everywhere, hair pulled up into a messy bun, glasses on her face, _silk_ pajamas leaving… not much to the imagination, all things considered.

“Fuck!” Donna screams, hearing the footsteps and seeing the hulking image of Cam, wrapped in a huge blanket coming at her at _three fucking a.m. for fucks sake._

“Sorry! Sorry!” Cam says quickly, chucking the blanket off and holding her palms up. “It’s me!” Donna looks equal parts relieved and pissed and Cam shuffles closer slowly, whispering now. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think that you’d be awake. I was hungry, and I haven’t gone to the grocery store in a while, and I was just gonna make a quick sandwich, and—”

Donna holds up a hand and cuts her off mid-sentence. “Jesus, Cam,” she breathes.

“I’m really sorry,” Cam says, again.

Donna waves towards the fridge. “By all means, you’ve already shaved a few years off my life.”

“I’m—” Cameron swallows her retort and opts instead for a scoff as she makes her way towards the fridge, digging around for the peanut butter and jelly. It’s not until she’s gotten hold of the bread and smeared, frankly, an alarming amount of jelly onto one side that she looks back up at Donna.

Donna, who is… looking at her like… something like awe and confusion and determination and annoyance. Cameron looks down at herself as she sucks some of the excess jelly off of her thumb. Oh, right—she’s in nothing but a tank top and underwear. She grabbed the blanket for a reason. She spreads peanut butter on the other slice of bread and tries to act casual about her state of undress. It’s not like Donna’s dressed in much more, it’s just a more… purposeful outfit. Also, this is _her house_ and if she wants to prance around in her underwear or lingerie at three a.m. then that is well within her rights to do so. _Cam_ is very much the one who has not left Donna’s personal space, taken to eating all of her food, and basically, not leaving Donna alone, professionally _or_ personally.

Cameron slaps the slices of bread together and starts putting the materials away, she can feel Donna’s sharp eyes on her the whole time and she feels herself flush underneath Donna’s gaze. When she turns back around and lifts her sandwich to take a bite, jelly spills out onto her shirt, and Cameron curses as she swipes at it. When she looks back up and meets Donna’s gaze, she freezes as Donna’s eyebrows lift even as her eyes drop, traveling the entire length of Cameron’s body in such an unconcealed once-over that Cam has to take a deep, steadying breath.

This is not the first time that this has happened. It _is,_ however, the first time that Donna has been obvious enough about it and then not flushed, or turned away, or immediately taken control over the situation and changed the subject. Cameron forces herself to meet Donna’s gaze, head-on. She may be the interloper here, the one mooching off of Donna’s food, and time, and personal space, but now, here they are, trapped in Donna’s kitchen, forcing themselves to acknowledge their mutual—well, their mutual something.

Cameron doesn’t know how to say it; like all of the things she aches for in her life, it’s maw-mouthed and made entirely of teeth, this want of hers—all-consuming and horrible and huge and Cameron doesn’t know how to push her way through it anymore. “Donna,” she says, half a breath and then, like she’s done before—more than once—Donna understands, and Donna saves her.

Cameron feels like time slows when Donna launches herself off of her stool and then flattens herself flush against Cameron’s body. She pushes the PB&J out of Cameron’s hands and reaches up and yanks Cameron’s face down, she lifts herself up onto her toes and then Donna gets her mouth on her.

And Cameron’s brain short circuits. She has imagined kissing Donna many times over the last decade, but she never could have imagined that it would feel like _this,_ intimate and knowing and like easing into something natural—almost like they’ve done it hundreds of times before. “Fuck,” Cam breathes when they pull back slightly. Donna’s eyes go hungry and sharp and almost _feral_ and all of the heat in Cameron’s body drops to her core. “Fuck,” she breathes out again and the kiss isn’t easy and natural, this time. Donna’s consuming her, pulling her down exactly where she wants her and Cameron offers up no protest, not even when Donna manages to push her up against the countertop, practically climbing on top of her. Cameron pants and claws at Donna and wants to live inside of this moment forever.

“Wow,” she breathes, once they’ve pulled back from each other slightly for the second time. Donna is… well, she’s straddling Cameron on top of her kitchen island, there’s really… no other way to describe it. Cameron is pretty sure that she’s got some peanut butter in her hair. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she admits.

“Yeah?” Donna asks, and there’s suddenly something… vulnerable about the look on her face. Gone is the hungry, confident, swagger that had her pushing Cameron down onto her table and having her way with her, and left behind is a woman who looks… scared. Scared of losing something.

_Again._

Cam isn’t scared anymore. Or, at least, she’s not scared about this—not now that she knows Donna is on the same page as her. Now, she’s just… thrilled. “Yeah,” she says, pouring every ounce of sincerity and confidence into the word as she can. “Since about 1985, at least.”

Donna laughs, a brilliant, bright, and unrestrained sound and Cameron beams at the sound of it. She wants to hear that sound way more often. Donna is still grinning as she leans back down to kiss Cameron again, so it’s almost less of a kiss and more of them pressing their smiles together. Cameron wriggles underneath Donna, still laughing as Donna’s hands trail up and down her thighs and shivering with the touch. _God,_ she wants more of _that,_ too _._

Donna pulls back, laughing and groaning as she tugs jelly out of her hair. Cameron licks some of it off her temple. “You’re a brat,” Donna notes and picks at peanut butter that is sticking to Cameron’s own head. She, frankly, couldn’t care less, not with Donna looking down at her like that.

“I am,” Cameron agrees. “But you like me anyway.”

“Yeah,” Donna’s smile suddenly goes soft and fond and something inside of Cameron’s heart clenches in the best way. “I do.”

“Good,” Cameron says. “That’s going to make things easier.”

Donna throws jelly at Cameron’s face, and then she bends down to lick it off and Cameron doesn’t stop smiling for over a week.


End file.
